


save the last dance for me

by defractum (nyargles)



Series: Tumblr Fic & Prompt Fills [6]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3497894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyargles/pseuds/defractum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a ball, and Enjolras' dance card is empty. Deliberately, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	save the last dance for me

Enjolras has spent the entire evening valiantly running away.

"You’re going to have to dance with someone eventually," says Courfeyrac, stopping by to gulp down a glass or two of delicately lemoned water. He’s flushed, having been kept busy with partners since the evening started, and Enjolras hands his handkerchief over to his friend without a word.

"Thank you," says Courfeyrac. "Really, Enjolras, I’m surprised you haven’t been dragged out yet. And the longer you wait, the worse it’s going to be."

"What do you mean by that?" asks Enjolras with a frown, but Courfeyrac just daubs away his sweat, and then hands the stained kerchief back to Enjolras before grinning, and darting away to find someone for the next dance just as the orchestra strikes up a lively tune.

He figures out what it means around an hour later, when there are clusters of potential partners edging closer to him, and he’s too surrounded to run. He’s still not danced with a single person all evening yet, which means that whoever manages to dance with him  _now_ will probably be planning the wedding by the end of the dance. Shit. He should have listened to Courfeyrac and danced a perfectly polite and decorous single dance with every person with a card.

His own dance card, of course, is blank.

And sooner or later, someone is going to pull together the perfect amount of courage and ask him outright instead of implying and hoping for an invitation from  _him_  and then he’ll really be buggered, cornered into accepting out of politeness.

Enjolras looks around to see if Courfeyrac will perhaps take the next dance with him, but he sees movement out of the corner of his eyes, a sweep of a dress across the floor, and Enjolras panics. He makes a break for it in the opposite direction; his glass gets abruptly left on the nearest mantle and he walks as fast as is socially acceptable, speeding up further when he hears his name called behind him.

"What the –" Grantaire manages to get out before Enjolras near-collides with him, catching Enjolras by the forearm and spinning him around before he crashes completely.

"Dance with me," says Enjolras quickly, melting with relief to see someone he actually knows.

"Er –"

"Please," whispers Enjolras urgently, and Grantaire’s eyebrows rise with alarm into his curls, which probably started out mostly tamed but are now starting to escape their pomade, springing forth into his face.

Grantaire turns them into the flow of dancers with a simple pivot on one foot, and Enjolras stares at the couples placing themselves into their partner’s arms, only just now noticing the dance that’s starting. “I only know how to lead,” says Grantaire simply and Enjolras flushes suddenly, finally realising what he’s asking of Grantaire.

"That’s fine," he says past the crescendo of his heart beat, painfully thudding against the inside of his ribcage. He wonders if Grantaire can hear it. "I can follow."

Grantaire’s hand in his is warm and dry, and he can feel the calluses across the palm that speak of his fencing skill; the hand tucked at his back is gentle, the lightest of touches that Grantaire can get away with without breaking the form and the whole of Grantaire is much, much closer than Enjolras was expecting.

Enjolras stumbles when they start, forgetting that he’s following, and it takes a few beats before he falls back into place with some nudging from Grantaire. His form is shaky at best; Enjolras has never enjoyed dance in any case and was particularly slow in learning this one since it’s only come into fashion in the last year or so.

Also, he lied; he only knows how to follow in theory, not in practice.

They dance, woodenly, for a moment, Enjolras determinedly looking over Grantaire’s shoulder before Enjolras finally speaks. “I’m sorry. I did not realise it was the waltz.”

"Don’t be. I wasn’t on anyone’s dance card for it anyway, and I’m happy to help."

Enjolras finally turns his head to look Grantaire in the eyes; there is no lie as far as he can see. Grantaire looks amused and bemused both, and Enjolras realises that he’s trying to make this as easy for Enjolras as possible.

"That doesn’t mean that everyone who can see us now won’t be left with the wrong impression. I’ve ruined your chances for an arrangement tonight, haven’t I?" Enjolras suspects Grantaire is the kind who dances a waltz as easily as a quadrille, whereas Enjolras would consider it more intimate than three of them combined.

Grantaire’s eyes crinkle. “Enjolras. You don’t like to dance when the room is just of your friends and no one is closer than an arm’s length away, let alone actually touching. I can’t imagine  _I’m_  the one suffering anything here.”

Another couple twirls toward them and Grantaire spins them out of the way, his hand pulling in at the narrowest part of Enjolras’s waist until Enjolras’s stomach is against Grantaire’s. Enjolras’s hand on Grantaire’s shoulder tightens involuntarily – Grantaire’s back beneath his palm is hot even through the silk, and he can feel the minute movements of the strong muscles there as they turn. “The  _touching_  is not what I am uncomfortable about,” he says, feeling the blush rise from his neck to his cheeks, and wonders if he can pretend that it’s the dancing that’s giving him a healthy flush.

"Oh," says Grantaire, and his eyes widen. He recovers quickly. "Well, if you’re in need of someone to keep other dance partners at bay, I would be honoured."

"I couldn’t ask that of you," says Enjolras immediately. It's his own fault he has the mamas a-speculating on him.

Grantaire shrugs, the smallest of movements beneath Enjolras’s hands. “I would be honoured,” he repeats, and Enjolras can feel the sincerity of his words.

"In that case," says Enjolras, dizzy from something far more potent than the waltz, "would you be so kind as to fill my dance card?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> Historial context: most dances in the early regency era were mostly set dances with groups and lines and squares. The waltz was one of the first 'couple' dances and considered rather scandalous since it involved actually touching your partner. Also, you were polite and sociable to take one dance, probably flirting to take more than one from the same partner consecutively, and it was a declaration of intention to take three
> 
> Come tak to me on [tumblr](http://defractum.tumblr.com/)!


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